Ending the Cycle || A Timebomb Fanfic

VIII

Sorry the creative juices have been pumping and I had to get another chapter out LMAO

———

The girl woke with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as her senses came rushing back all at once. Her wide, sky-blue eyes darted around the dimly lit room, taking in her surroundings with growing panic. The air was heavy and damp, carrying the faint scent of mildew and age. What little light there was filtered unevenly through stained, threadbare cloth draped haphazardly over the windows, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the room. The walls were cracked, the floor creaking faintly beneath her shifting weight, and every detail screamed abandonment.

She struggled to move, but a jarring pain in her wrists stopped her short. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, rough rope digging into her skin with every movement. Panic flashed across her face as she realized she was tied to a battered, rickety chair, the wood creaking ominously beneath her slight frame. She felt a familiar marble between her hands as she tried to call on her magic.

Her breath hitched when she spotted what was wrapped in the ropes: a small, crumbling figurine of petricite nestled cruelly between her palms. It pulsed faintly, its presence a suffocating weight that drained her. She bit down a curse, her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers strained against the bonds, desperate to find some give in the rope.

The room itself offered no solace. The ramshackle furniture was sparse and useless; a broken table lay in pieces near the corner, and an ancient, moth-eaten couch sagged under its own weight. A single beam of light spilled through a hole in the ceiling above her, illuminating her like prey caught in a spotlight. The rest of the room dissolved into foreboding shadow, the oppressive silence pressing down on her like a heavy hand.

And then, from the darkness, a shadow moved.

Two fingers snapped into her field of vision, casual and cocky, forcing her to look up sharply. A voice followed, honeyed with mockery, its tone cutting through the stillness like a blade.

"Well, well," it drawled. "I was wondering when you'd finally wake up. Did you get a good beauty sleep, Sparkles?"

Her head snapped upward fully, her glare locking onto the figure standing in front of her. The girl from the forest. Her hair, an electric shade of blue, seemed to glow faintly in the low light, and her pink eyes practically shimmered with manic delight. Jinx grinned, wide and unhinged, leaning in close enough for the prisoner to see the wild energy in her gaze.

"Don't look so glum," Jinx continued, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. "I mean, I'm sure this isn't the first time you've found yourself tied up somewhere strange, right? Or is it?"

The prisoner's lips pressed into a hard line, refusing to give the other girl the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she straightened her spine, her composure slipping back into place like armor. Her eyes burned cold with defiance, even as her muscles strained against the ropes.

Jinx tilted her head, her smile widening at the silence. "Oh, I see. Strong, silent type, huh?" She began to circle the chair, her boots tapping rhythmically against the wooden floor. "Let me guess—you're trying to figure out how to make this look cool, like this was all part of your plan. Newsflash, Sparkles: it wasn't."

The girl's eyes flicked toward the corner of the room, catching sight of a second figure leaning casually against the wall. A boy, no older than herself, with hair as stark white as fresh snow and an expression far more reserved. His gaze met hers, and for a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a glimmer of regret, perhaps, or concern. But just as quickly, he looked away, his jaw tightening.